


Enemy Fire

by Agentpeggicarter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:36:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agentpeggicarter/pseuds/Agentpeggicarter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m meant to kill you but I’ve been watching you for a week to work out how and you’re just too nice."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enemy Fire

Clint stared at the file in front of him and shot Agent Hill a questioning look. The file was empty, the necessary information needed to complete the mission missing.

"I know it's not as much information there as you're use too, but that's all the Client gave us." She answered with a shrug.

He frowned at the paper and flips it over, expecting something to magically appear on the blank pages, but nothing does.

"There's nothing here to tell me about my mission." Clint points out.

“The usual. A shoot and boot.”

 “There’s not enough information to go on.”

 "You have a name, an address. I've seen you do helluva lot more with less Barton."

"Did the Client give us a reason why the usual information wasn’t provided?"

Agent Hill rolled her eyes. "In our line of work, questions like that tend to get us killed, so no. I didn't ask. They doubled our usual amount." She said as if that was answer enough.

Clint nodded at his handler, and picked up the miniscule file. "I'll see what I can do." Was all he said as he left the room, leaving Maria Hill with an uneasy feeling about the mission.

* * *

 Clint sat in his car and stared at the apartment before him. It wasn't hard to find your building downtown and a quick knock on the door told him all he needed to know. It told Clint that you weren’t home and that you lived alone since no roommate or boyfriend answered the door, making it the perfect time to snoop around for more information.

He made quick work of the lock and slowly eased his way inside the small apartment, checking the halls of nosy neighbors before closing the door. He lets out a sigh of relief and turned away from the door, only to come face to face with a beautiful German shepherd blocking the rest of the apartment, not at all happy to see the intruder.

“Hey there big boy, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to take a quick look around.” Clint coos, hoping that would calm the dog down.

It doesn’t seem to have the desired effect as the dog lowers its body, a deep growl emitting from its throat. Clint quickly looks around the room for something to distract the dog and comes up empty, the apartment in pristine condition.

That left Clint with two options. Option one was trying to make friends with the canine, while option two was leaving with his tail between his legs and Clint preferred to make a friend tonight.

It took a while to get the dog to stop growling, mainly a lot of talking in a soothing tone to get the dog curious, then it was all pets and belly rubs and the dog was on his side. After the dog realized Barton wasn’t a threat he trotted away to settle in front of the sunny window where he instantly fell asleep. This gave Clint enough time to snoop around the immaculate apartment without a wet nose in his way.

 _Some watch dog._ Clint thought as he began his search, the dog letting out a soft snore from his sunny spot.

He walked around your apartment, taking note of everything as he went. Clint found it strange that you didn’t have much up in the way of decorations since most people liked to make a new place as homey as possible.

Based off his initial reconnaissance, it looked as if you just moved in, but upon further inspection, mainly the furniture imprints, proved otherwise. The whole place looked as if it was ready for an open house instead of occupancy. Everything was too orderly and straight out of a catalog, like you took the decorations the place already had and added your few things around them, but nothing looked like your own.

There were, of course, a few personal items scattered here and there, proving otherwise. For instance you had a quilt that hung off the back of the couch in the living room and your bedroom had an open book lying on the bed, waiting for your return. The dining room had a coffee cup sitting on the oak table with your laptop closed next to it. They were little things that proved someone lived here.

Other than the few items Clint came across there wasn’t anything to attest to your character; nothing worth saving or taking you out for. Even your computer was clean; most of your history showing you spent a lot of time on some site called Tumblr.

Whatever that was.

He had just as many questions as he did coming into this place, nothing was gained from this visit, except for the fact you liked to keep things clean.

“Well that was a bust.” Clint said to the dog who was now staring at him. The dog cocked his head to the side wondering what Clint was still doing inside its owner’s apartment.

“Yea, I know. I’m leaving.” He said giving the dog a good-bye pat on the head.

Clint slipped out the apartment, making sure to keep everything like he found it and quickly disappeared like he is trained to do.

Since the apartment was a bust, the next step is to tail you and get an idea of your schedule. This allowed Clint to figure out the ideal time and location to take you out, without arising suspicion. Easier to take someone out when you knew the exact place they would be.

Clint never liked shadowing his targets though. It gave him a glimpse into their personal lives and most of the men and women Clint was tasked to take out were killers in one form or another. The last thing Clint wanted to do on his Sunday night was getting to know the person you were about to kill better. Clint couldn’t complain though, seeing how it was something he got paid to do. People paid a lot of money to have people disappear and Clint is the best man for the job, which is probably why they contacted him in the first place to take your case.

Your case was different though, everything you did was… ordinary.

For the weeks he followed you, you didn't do anything illegal or unsavory. In fact, you were probably the nicest person Clint has ever met.

From nine to five, Monday through Friday, you worked your boring desk job at Disas, sitting in front of a computer clicking away on the keys as you helped the company manage all their clients while simultaneously filing invoices. It was all rather impressive, the amount of work you could juggle at once without messing up. You weren’t even fazed when someone added another file to the teetering stack that sat in the corner of your desk. You knew you’d get to it when you could and put all your focus on the current report you were working on.

It was amazing how easy it was for Clint to infiltrate the company’s computer database, it was almost embarrassing. He expected, for such a big company, that the few hacking skills he possessed wouldn’t be enough to get him the information he needed. Thankfully Disas didn’t take cyberattacks seriously allowing Clint to worm his way in with ease. After that it was easy to find your keystrokes and web searches, since each employee had a personal ID number and password they used to log onto the computers. It took a while to shift through all the information that went through your computer since you were a very bust woman, but what he found didn’t shock him in the slightest. Based off of tall the information he found it turns out you your job perfectly.

_Big shocker there._

Everything he found on your computer was the files of the Clients you managed to help while working with Disas as well as every project you seemed too managed. You had your fingers in every pie, practically, but still no foul play.

In fact, the more Clint dug through the companies system, the more he thought you were overqualified for the position you held. You shouldn’t be sitting on the floor with the rest of the group; you should be in your own office running them. They were wasting your talents on this mediocre work and Clint’s digging told him why.

Your boss, Mr. Harris, was a sleaze bag in every sense of the word. The more Clint read about him, the more he wanted to take him out; he at least had an ever growing list of offenses against him.

Clint found that Mr. Harris like to take advantage of the young interns, and the company, not wanting to face a scandal, gave the young women hush money and fired them from their job.

During your first year with Disas, you fell victim to Mr. Harris inappropriate behavior when he got a little too handy each time you bumped into him at the office. In case that wasn’t enough, whenever you found yourself alone with him, he would whisper about what he’s do to you next time you were in his office. You weren’t one to allow someone to get away with such a thing and filed a sexual harassment report against him, hoping the company would look into the matter and protect future interns.

So the Disas did the only thing they knew how to do with situations like this. They fucked it up. They talked to Mr. Harris about his actions and gave him a verbal slap on the wrist; nothing was done to make sure he didn’t do it in the future. To make matters worse Disas mentioned who filed the charge against him, the anonymity you had vanished in a second and you now a victim to Mr. Harris bullying instead. You could handle that though, paperwork and endless files were preferable to alone time with Mr. Harris.

Due to this, Mr. Harris gives you the most job with the shortest deadlines, hoping you’d quit. You took it all in stride and completed everything thanks to the friends you had made at the company with the complaint you filed against the boss. Your boss didn’t know how you were getting everything done, but he knew you wouldn’t go far in the company as long as he was in charge.

When promotion time rolled around you were always overlooked for someone less competent and in your boss’s pocket, someone who had no idea what this company even did. Despite all that you stayed with the company.

Clint couldn’t understand how you stayed with a company that treated you like shit. Most people would have packed up their things and left the minute their boss turned on them.

Not you though. You stayed despite everything the boss threw at you.

_What kept you there?_

_What claim did you have at Disas?_

No matter how much research Clint did, he couldn’t figure out what made you tick.

What is it with you and information?

It’s as if you don’t exist, but you do. Clint’s seen your birth certificate and he’s seen your parents. Any agent with a cover story wouldn’t have pretend parents, especially ones they are in regular contact with, which is what you did.

Most days, after work, you managed to find time to swing by your parents place for a nice home cooked meal which made up for the slop they served you in the cafeteria.

Sometimes you helped your mom in the kitchen with dinner, but for the most part you helped your day tinker on the old car he kept in the garage. Clint watched you spend hours in the garage helping your dad or just sitting there and talking to him. Talking to your dad seemed to relax you until dinner then the nice meal finished the soothing process. It looked to Clint that visiting your parents was a way to ground yourself, to make sure you could get through the rest of the week without blowing up in frustration or bursting into tears.

Even if you had a practically long day at work you stayed to help with clean up, never leaving the house until the dishes were clean and the dishwasher loaded. When it was time to leave you gave both your parents a kiss on the cheek with the promises of seeing them the next day, unless it was Friday, weekends were you caught up on the chores you neglect to do around the house that week.

The weekends were another story.

Clint was hoping with your time off, you’d let loose, do something that would make taking you out easier. If anything, it made it harder.

You started off your day off taking your dog for a run followed by a game of catch in the park. After that, you headed home and took a quick shower to rinse the sweat from your body after the morning run. A load of laundry was done and all the dishes were washed before you headed down to the local animal shelter you volunteered at, where you spent the rest of your time. Clint hoped that you would sell the puppies to a puppy mill or something, but found that you cared for the dog as if they were your own, better than most dog owners actually. They got all the attention they needed and an extra treat or two to show how special they are. When one of them was adopted from the shelter you would give them a smile, words of encouragement, and one final hug and kiss before giving the owner a handwritten letter from both you and the dog, talking about all the dogs likes and dislikes.

It was all very normal, your life.

Why did someone want you taken out? Why did you, the woman who helped animals on the weekends, and ate dinner with her family during the week, have a target on your back? Clint was no closer to finding answers then he was the minute he was given your file. 

* * *

 Clint sat on a bench in the park pretending to read the paper but watching you play fetch with your dog when his cell phone rings.

“Hawkeye.” he answered, giving his code name in case it was someone who shouldn’t have his number.

“How’s the target?” Maria asked, skipping formalities.

“Still breathing.”

“The Client wants to know why the subject isn’t taken care of.”

“Tell them I’m working on it.”

“I have and they keep calling. They want it take care of… today.”

“Why the sudden rush? They do know that with the information provided it’s going to take longer than usual, right?”

“I informed them, but they didn’t listen.”

“Did they specify how or why?”

Clint heard Maria flip through some papers before finding the one she needed. “Also not listed, they left it up to you.”

Clint let out a sigh. “I hate not knowing. I’ve followed the target around for practically two weeks and she’s the most mundane person I’ve met.”

Agent Hill was silent on the other end, trying to figure out a way to please the Client and listen to what Clint was saying, hoping to find some way to allow them both to leave with their lives. “I take it you’re not going to do what the Client wants?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but based off of what I’ve seen, I’m not killing an innocent woman.”

“I see… I’ll look into the Client, ask some contact of mine if they know anyone, and see what I can find. I’ll stall them as much as possible, but sooner or later they will get impatient with you and send someone else to get the job done.”

“I know. I’m usually the person they call.” He said before ending the call, stuffing the phone in his pocket. He looked up from paper and notices you’re long gone, probably on your way to the shelter. Guess it was finally time to get involved, make contact.

It was time Clint volunteered.

* * *

You had just finished walking the dogs and were giving them their food when the sound of little bell above the door let out a small chime.

“I’ll be right there.” you call toward the waiting area and quickly finish your duties in back.

You brush your hands on the smock wrapped around your waist and finally meet the customer examining the few articles the owner had decorating the walls. The moment you catch sight of him you have to stop yourself from gaping at him. He was very attractive in his form fitting jeans and leather jacket, like something out of a magazine. He looked like the typical boy next door with the flare and style of a bad boy, it was a strange combination, and you figured this wasn’t his usual attire.

You finally manage to pull your eyes away from him and quickly fix your hair before cluing him in on your arrival. “How can I help you today?” you manage to get out.

Clint turns from the pictures and flashes you a lazy smile noticing the pink tinge to your cheeks. “I noticed your sign in the window about help wanted, and thought I’d volunteer.”

“Do you have experience with dogs?”

“Some, they all like me well enough. I’ve yet to meet a dog who hasn’t.”

You nodded your head. Of course dogs liked him, he oozed confidence and friendliness, two things dogs love. You weren’t at all surprised by the news, people probably love him too. You know, with the good looks, and the smile. You were surprised you could even form coherent thoughts around this guy.

“Do you have a dog?” You asked, trying to steer your thoughts away from him to a safer topic, like dogs.

“I sadly do not.”

“It’s no matter; I just find it easier to work here with my own to take care of.”

“What sorta dog would you recommend for me?”

You look him up and down, trying to get a reading on him, to find the dog best suited for his personality and life. It was gift of sorts, something you were really good at, pairing animals with owners. You had yet to receive a complaint from a customer about the animal they took home. The man in front of you, despite the leather and tight pants, looked like someone who spent a lot of time outside and goofing off, not as serious as he was at the moment.

“Probably Sandy.” you answered after a couple minutes.

“Sandy huh? Sounds like a very pretty lady.” Clint said with another smile.

“Wanna meet her?” You ask, hoping by getting him with the dog he’d stop looking at you. Not that you minded him checking you out, but it was making it hard to concentrate and you needed to give the dogs home. That is your mission by working here.

“Sure, I got nowhere else to be.”

You flash him a smile and lead him to the back where the other dogs are kept. The instant they see you they begin to greet you in a mixture of barks and howls, excited that you were back, hoping you’d play with them. Clint watches all the dogs that are excited by your appearance and is amazed by the number of them in the cages, all without a place to call their own.

“How come there are so many?” Clint asks, as a pair of sad eyes land on him.

“Some of them are lost and their owners will be picking them up soon, the other aren’t so lucky. Most families just drop them off without looking back and the rest are the ones found wandering the streets.”

“That’s terrible.”

You shrug. “That’s people. My dog Bones, was like that. I found him half-starved on the street when I was coming home from work one night. I took him in and nursed him back to health as best I could in his condition and spent a lot of time here, trying to figure out how to care for a dog. I put up flyers in case he was someone lost dog and they wanted to claim him, but no one came. At that point we bounded and the rest is history.”

“The fact that you took that dog in is more than most people would do.”

You stop in front of the cage that held Sandy and busy yourself with unlocking the gate, instead of meeting his eye. “I wasn’t trying to be better than anyone; I was trying to be a decent person.” You answer as you enter the cage where you are greeted by Sandy, a Labrador retriever, and Peanut, a labradoodle; half poodle half Labrador. Sandy instantly licks your face while Peanut rolls over on her back waiting for the tummy runs you always gave her.

“How are you girls doing today?” You ask giving Peanut the pets she wanted. “This is Peanut, the only dog I know who loves scratches more than treats, and this little lady is Sandy.” You said as Sandy slowly makes her way to the newcomer. Clint slowly lowers himself so the dog can sniff him and determine if he’s a threat or not.

“Sandy is one year old and has been here for… three months now. She’s very friendly and the best friend you can ever have.”

He smiles at the dog and allows Sandy to sniff his hand before petting her, something she seems to enjoy. You watch the two interact with each other as you slowly pet Peanut, and smile at the pair. It was amazing, watching people bond with their dog and from the look on his face, you knew that he would be going him with a new friend.

“She seems to like you.” You point out as the dog licks his face.

“Sandy is something special.”

“Do you need a minute to think about everything and get to know her more?”

Clint shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll-”

The sound of his phone ringing cut him off. He stood, grabbing his phone from his pocket, and glanced at the number on the screen. Clint gives you an apologetic look. “I need to take this, would you excuse me for a second.”

“Yea, sure, I’ll be right here with the dogs.”

Clint smiles at you and heads back toward the reception area before picking up.

“Barton.”

“Nice of you to finally pick up.” Maria says in greeting, hating how she had to wait.

“I was busy.” Clint shot back.

“You with the target?”

“I am.”

“What’s your take?” she asks, knowing Clint’s gut has the best judgment out of his head and the Client.

“Someone not worth killing, that’s for sure.”

“Good to know. I did some digging on the Client and I found something interesting.”

“How interesting?”

“For one, they weren’t going to pay us, they don’t have the money.”

“How did you figure that out?”

“Some back tracing, rerouting, doesn’t matter. What matters is that the client is broke. They were going to have us do the job then turn around and take us out.”

“How-”

“Why are you constantly interrupting, I’m getting there. I just took out one of their guys who were trying to kill me with a plastic bag, a plastic bag, can you believe it?”

“No I cannot. The audacity.” he says sarcastically.

“Love the concern; I’m fine by the way.”

“I figured you were since you’re talking to me and I’ve seen you go through a helluva lot worse.”

Maria snorts. “Damn straight I’ve gone through worse, these guys thought I was a glorified secretary, little do they know I’m an agent in my own right.”

“How’s the office, secured?”

“Do I sound like a newbie to you?” Maria asked offended Clint even had to ask. “It’s taken care of.”

Just as those words left her mouth, Clint heard the distant sound of an explosion on the other end followed by the sound of sirens.

“Was that-?”

“Like I said, it's taken care of.”

“What else did you get on the Client before they tried to kill you?” Clint asked noting the dark SUV’s that pulled up in front of the shelter and the men in suits that exited out of them.

“Not as much as I would have liked, but enough to know that you need to get out of there.”

“Too late.”

“I’ll be at the plaza, I’ll see you there.”

Clint stuffed his phone in his pocket and locked the front door flipping the sign in the process. He threw a couple hundred on the counter for the damage that was about to occur and headed to the back where you were still with the dogs.

You catch sight of the customer coming toward you and feel the butterflies return at his presence. You stand to greet him and notice the tense expression on his face and try to hide the fear you suddenly feel.

“You are going to think I’m crazy, but you need to listen to me carefully.” He says, the smile gone from his face. “Someone hired me to kill you, but from what I’ve witnessed you aren’t worth killing. Now, there are some men at the door who have other ideas. They are going to kill you, no questions asked. We need to leave before they come in.”

You try to follow what this guy is telling you, but it doesn’t make any sense. Hired to kill you? Who would do such a thing? Why did someone want you dead?

“Why?” was all you managed to get out, the color long gone from your face as his words seemed to sink in.

“I don’t know and I’ll answer any and all questions you have when we are safe, but for right now, I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?”

“How can I trust you if I don’t even know your name.” You exclaim, trying to rationalize all of this.

“The name's Clint. Now do you trust me now?”

“No…”

Clint smiled at you putting your racing nerves at ease. “Then I need you to grab Sandy and run.”

 


End file.
